One of my tomato bushes decided to get with it and do its job.  Finally!!  It is a tiny yellow tomato that is a little bigger than a grape.  And sweet.

I had planted it in the flower bed instead of the raised garden bed.  The ones in the garden are contrary--and not living up to their potential.

Every member of my class came on Sunday.  And we had two visitors.  I think they all decided they couldn't stand to isolate anymore.  They sat six feet apart just to be safe--everyone is over seventy years old.

Seventy used to be old.  Not anymore.  These gals are smart.  Quick.  And very wise.  The shame is, nobody who is young wants the wisdom that they have.  Used to be that youngsters listened to their elders.  Not any more.

It seems strange to me.  I always wanted to hear what my grandmother had to say.  I loved to hear about her life and the challenges she faced.

She taught me to milk a cow.  She taught me to catch a chicken and wring its neck, boil and pull the feathers, cut it up and fry it.

Her cut up chickens had a wishbone.  You can't get that at the grocery store unless you buy a whole chicken and cut it up yourself--which I am a grandmother-taught expert at doing--cutting up a chicken.

But I don't ever want to do what it takes to get the feathers off again.  Ugh.  She cleaned and saved the feathers and made feather-beds.  And when I got married, she gave me two feather pillows she had made.  I loved my grandmother.  Sleeping on a feather bed is heaven.